#367 Ten Ways Catholic Life is Better

Today’s tough times shouldn’t blind us to how much renewal we have already accomplished…

In these days of sex-scandal fatigue, declining numbers, fractured fellowship and polarized politics it is tempting to wallow in discouragement.  These are hard times.  We long for the “good old days.”

But there is another view.  As I observe my 40th anniversary in parish work (I began at St. Mary’s in Laurel, Maryland in the summer of 1972) I prefer to think of our present situation as a short-term stumbling block on the long-term path of Catholic renewal.

As someone who lived through Vatican II, I see our Church in the light of the Council’s call for a “Second Pentecost” to give new life and vitality to our ancient tradition.

But while Vatican II’s four years were my four high school years, my childhood was spent in an earlier version of Catholicism.  So my perspective filters through a life lived in three parts: (1) a pre-council childhood, (2) a conciliar adolescence, and (3) a post-council adulthood spent working in the Church.  From this vantage point, I see many ways the Church now is dramatically better off.

1. Catholic Identity.  Gone are the days when Catholicism shaped our identity mainly by giving us rules to follow.  Nowadays everyone I work with knows that being “Catholic” means to embrace a personal faith descended from 20 centuries of believers and shared with 100s of millions worldwide.  By now Catholics cannot remember the days when “personal faith” was an alien concept among Catholics.  Yes, the “good old days” had its share of “devout” Catholics--but for most the “Catholic faith” was merely a set of propositions one accepted and rules one obeyed.  The idea that God is love, and we are to be disciples of His incarnate Son, too often got lost in the shopping list of Catholic Do’s and Don’ts.  Those days are gone, and good riddance.

2. Liturgy.  Gone too are the days of unheard mumbled prayers and passive people in the pews.  Gone are full pews at Communion time (only 15% of Mass-goers received communion in the 1950s), rosaries at Mass, the “elites” who possessed their own missals and the skill to navigate among their many multicolored bookmark-ribbons.

Now people come to Mass for the right reason - - the Eucharist itself.  They participate in its celebration: hearing the readings, responding to the priest, praying together the Kyrie and Gloria and Psalms and Sanctus and the Our Father, greeting each other in peace, and coming forward en masse to receive Communion. 

3. Sacramental life.  I still remember when Baptism meant merely “washing original sin from the soul” of babies (and mothers were excluded), when Confirmation made “soldiers of Christ” of kids too old for Christian initiation but too young to take any mature responsibility.  I remember when funerals were morbid black reminders of death’s grip and God’s wrath.  I remember when the Eucharist was merely an annual duty-call for most Catholics.

Today our sacramental system, while far from perfect, has been restored to firmer foundations.  Baptism makes us members of the Body of Christ, and its fullest form is the restored Baptism of adult catechumens at the Easter Vigil.  Confirmation now comes between Baptism and First Communion, or else is conferred on youth old enough to seriously renew their own baptismal vows.  Funerals are now bright with color, alleluias, the Paschal Candle, and the hope of Resurrection.  And the Eucharist is once again the center of all, the way we come together as one body.  Even Reconciliation, though underutilized, is now humane rather than mechanical, healing without being clinical.

4. The Bible.  Many of us remember when “Bible” referred merely to that big coffee table book where families recorded baptisms and weddings.  But few Catholics remember that we never heard the Old Testament or the letters of Paul at Church.  Only the Gospel was read aloud and in English.  Now nearly the entire body of the Old and New Testaments is proclaimed aloud at Mass over a three year cycle.  And we’ve fairly well dispensed with the old-time “sermons” on whatever topic crossed Father’s mind, in favor of genuine homilies that unpack, interpret, and apply the scripture readings for the congregation.

Moreover Bible study has become part of many adult education programs and faith-sharing groups, and is built into every single school-age religious education curriculum.    So the Bible is now at the center of Catholic life in a way unknown to our grandparents.

5. The Laity. “Laity” means “people,” and the day is long gone when they were content to “pray, pay, and obey.” For 40 years or more, lay volunteers have assumed leadership in ministry as lectors, Eucharistic ministers, in baptismal and marriage preparation, in the RCIA, and as parish councilors and small group leaders.  And since 2005, lay professionals now make up the majority of parish staffs. 

Laypeople are no longer helpless children in the church, totally dependent on “Father” to care for them.  Such infantile docility enabled the cover-up of sexual abuse for decades, but Vatican II’s call for an “adult” laity finally doomed clergy corruption.  The Church of silence is gone for good.

6. The Workforce.  Gone are the days when parishes were run by a drill-squad of priests, alike in uniforms, training, tasks, and lifestyle.  Now parish leadership resembles a ball-club: role players with distinct jobs, different training, and specialized skills.  Before my arrival, the St. Mary’s staff consisted of three priests.  Today St. Mary’s lists more than 12 staff people on its website. Typically, large parish staffs are now loaded with laypeople. Instead of marching in lockstep, they must work like a team--which means their diverse gifts build up the Body of Christ, just as St. Paul described, in a way the old workforce never did.

 7. Women’s roles. Even as numbers of women religious fell, women rose to new prominence in our Church.  Nuns headed diocesan departments, became parish pastoral associates, and lay women as well flooded into parish ministries, until today women make up nearly 80% of all parish staffs.  Our grandfathers could never have imagined this transformation of Catholicism’s patriarchy--but maybe our grandmothers dreamt it!

8. Collaboration.  John-Paul II said “Collaboration is the act proper to solidarity,” and our unity as Church today is manifested by our deep commitment to a collegial approach at all levels.  Following the model of Vatican II itself, we now see Catholic life shaped by gatherings of the US Bishops, diocesan councils, parish pastoral and finance councils and a myriad of parish committees and small groups. 

I used to joke that Vatican II gave us lots of documents, lots of changes, and lots of meetings--and for the last 30 years I’ve made my livelihood going to those meetings.  The Church’s business no longer follows the Charles Lindbergh “flying solo” model, but instead uses the model Saint Paul had in mind when he addressed his letters to “My Co-workers.”

9. Ecumenism.  Who still remembers the “good old days” when Catholics were prohibited from any dealings with Protestant churches?  As teenagers, my older sisters were even kept from YWCA dances because the Y was a “Protestant” organization.  For my parents, Catholics were “devout” but Protestants were always “staunch.”

Over the last 40 to 50 years the landscape has completely changed.  We still have differences with our separated Christian brothers and sisters, but we no longer fear “the other” or shun them.  Indeed, many progressive Catholics now find they share much perspective with progressive Protestants, just as many conservative Catholics feel allied to conservative Protestants.  Such conversations across the ecumenical boundaries were unthinkable 50 years ago, but a commonplace now--and that has revised hope for a future when Christians will again be united.

10. The End of Quarantine.  At all levels, Catholicism has ditched its old isolationist posture in favor of dialogue with the outside world.  That world remains toxic in many ways, but rather than hide away from fear of infection our Church now opts for immunizing its people with a faith strong enough to engage those of others faiths and even those of no faith.  So our popes travel the world and address the UN, our bishops blog and issue pastoral letters on public policy and voter education, our schools teach a broad range of students from different backgrounds, and even our liturgies embrace facets of contemporary culture (folk music, photography, dance) that enrich our life as Catholics, living a global faith in the global world.

-----

During my high school years, as the Council progressed, my father once speculated on the outcome: “What if priests get just as good at mumbling English as they ever were at mumbling Latin?” The operative word, of course, was “mumble”--and he was right in part.  We still mumble along, trying to perfect renewal and sometimes stumbling on an obstacle in our path.  None of the 10 points above is perfectly realized. They are works in progress.  

But there is no doubting this: these 10 points have already restored an authentic practice of our ancient tradition that seemed impossible 50 years ago. They have made us a better Church.

© Bernard F. Swain PhD 2012

#366 Have We Come a Long Way Baby?

Looking back on the renewal of Catholicism after 40 years on the job.

Last time I wrote about the major public anniversary coming in October: the 50th anniversary of the start of Vatican Council II (see CrossCurrents #365).  But now I want to share my thoughts about a more personal anniversary.

Forty years ago this summer I packed my belongings into my “brand-new” used Volkswagen (actually so old it lacked a gas gauge!) and drove from Boston to Washington, DC bearing my newly-minted master’s degree. I was starting my contract as the first full-time director of religious education at Saint Mary of the Mills Parish in Laurel, Maryland--a parish with a 1200-student CCD program, a grammar school, and an affiliated high school just across the street.

I was all of 23 ½ years old.

I arrived less than 10 years after the opening of Vatican II, and only 6½ years after its finish.  As you might imagine, parish life was in rapid flux.

  Parish life was already polarized between two extremes: those opposed to “The Changes” and those frustrated by change’s “slow” pace.  In between were two other groups: those happy with the renewal they experienced, and those who were either confused or apathetic and just went along.

The liturgical renewal of Vatican II was still under way (no Communion in the hand yet, and most people still received Communion kneeling at a rail).

The idea of a lay person on the parish payroll performing ministry was still a brand new idea. At that time the parish staff consisted of 3 priests and me! Parish councils were in their infancy.  Parish staffs were just beginning to build teamwork.

Fr. Tom Sheehan

Even so, the general tone of parish life was upbeat.  Roe v. Wade had not yet split Catholics or American politics.  The pastor, Tom Sheehan, was committed to making renewal work. We still had enough priests, high attendance, and steady revenues.  Catholic life seemed alive and well and poised for a vibrant future, even if renewal continued to pose big challenges to church leadership at all levels.

That was 40 years ago.  Since then, I’ve devoted virtually my entire working life to addressing those challenges of renewal, almost always on the parish level.  I’ve worked in the trenches of more than 150 parishes in more than a dozen dioceses.  Naturally enough, reaching my 40th anniversary causes me to pause and take stock.

I belong, of course, to a generation that believed “the whole world is watching,” a generation committed to “making a difference,” a generation determined to “Question Authority” but convinced that “We Shall Overcome.”

I saw my career contributing to the reshaping of Catholicism promoted by Vatican II, and I hoped that the reshaping of Catholic life would also renew American life (that first year brought not only Roe v. Wade but the Christmas bombing of North Vietnam and Watergate scandal) in a way conventional politics could not.

So as I look back, as a child of both the 1960s and Vatican II, I cannot avoid asking myself: “How far have we come?”

If this were only 10 years later (1982), I would say we have come quite a way.  In 1982, Catholicism in general is at a public high point due to the travels of John-Paul II. Liturgical renewal has produced spreading pockets of good liturgy, participation in singing and liturgical ministries is up, changes in funerals and weddings and baptisms and confirmation have improved them all, and we’ve begun to evangelize through the RCIA.  Parish councils and staffs are now well established, and clergy-lay collaboration is becoming the norm for parish leadership (even if most folks are still learning how to do it). 

If this were 1992 (that is, 20 years into my career) I’d say the post-Conciliar reforms are well established.  Whether or not they are practiced well, they’re now the routine ways people have come to expect. There is no going back. True, the pressures from secular culture are still chipping away at the attitudes, values, and lifestyles of Catholics.  By now church participation is no longer one of life’s routine obligations.  It has become an optional leisure activity, and must now compete for our time with the exploding leisure options around us (cable TV is widespread although email and the Internet are not yet).

By 2002 (30 years in) things have begun to turn sour.  The sex-abuse scandal is breaking wide open, Bernard Law has resigned in disgrace, the priest shortage is hitting even the largest dioceses, Mass attendance is declining, parish leadership on all levels is aging as younger Catholics drift (or even run) away.

The last 10 years have been no easier.  In my parish work I now often encounter widespread discouragement, anxiety, and some anger.  For millions of rank and file Catholics, especially Boomer-age parents of grown, church- alienated children, the current situation can be depressing.  But for someone like me, whose career is involved, it poses the specter of a professional life-journey wasted on the wrong path. 

After investing 40 years of my life on the renewal of our Church, I naturally want to say that our progress proves I have made a sound investment.  But practically speaking, this begs the question: What have we got to show for the last 40 years of renewal in the Catholic Church? 

Friends know me as chronically critical but eternally optimistic, and despite all signs to the contrary I persist in believing that we as Church are better off than we were before my career began (or, at least, better off than before the Council began). 

Granting that the last 40 years have brought dramatic growing pains and horrific failures, and granting that too many of these remain unresolved, still I would argue that the Catholic Church today is not only dramatically different, but also dramatically better, than it was 40 or 50 or 60 years ago. 



IRONY: The old-time pictures depict a woman put off  a train
"somewhere between Baltimore and LAUREL" for smoking!

Midway between the end of Vatican II and the beginning of my career, Phillip Morris introduced their new Virginia Slims cigarettes with the slogan “You’ve come a long way, baby.” Looking back, it seems either comic or prophetic to have used a cigarette to celebrate women’s liberation.  But the slogan itself perfectly expressed the sense of accomplishment that follows a successful historic milestone.

Is it still possible, in 2012, to look at the Catholic Church and say “You’ve come a long way baby”?  Next time I will explain why my answer is “yes.”

Next: 10 reasons why Catholicism is better off 40 years later.

© Bernard F. Swain PhD 2011

#365: Here’s Julia, Here’s “Jaws”--Where’s Johnnie Walker?

We should not fail to take this golden opportunity to honor Blessed Pope John XXIII.

I began writing this piece on Julia Child’s 100^th birthday.  At least in Boston, home of her TV show, it has been an occasion for massive celebration.  Local media put Julia’s face on front pages and lead stories, chefs and food critics published memoirs of their encounters with her, PBS stations ran “French Chef” marathons while hawking Julia’s books and DVDs.  PBS websites offered photographs, recipes, and more TV episodes.


Boston University’s culinary arts program (founded by Julia and Jacques Pepin) announced special Julia-inspired dinners prepared by celebrity chefs.  Publisher Alfred A. Knopf released a new tablet app of Julia recipes, to complement its “JC 100” Facebook page.  Many restaurants sponsored Julia Child weeks.  At least three new books about Julia appeared.


All this came in the fresh wake of another anniversary taking place. To mark Universal Studios 100^th  anniversary, Martha’s Vineyard (where “Jaws” was shot, casting the island as “Amity Island”) revived its annual “Jawsfest.” 

Like the Julia celebration, “Jaws” festivities filled the local calendar.  Martha’s Vineyard hosted seminars with cast, families, through, and local residents involved in the making of Jaws, a multimedia tribute to the writer and cast members who have since died, a museum-like display of private collections of memorabilia from the film, live reenactments of favorite scenes, a treasure hunt, a movie-themed festival in a public park, and a big-screen outdoor screening of the movie under the stars. 

Thousands of tourists flocked to see the movie sites, review the movie itself, and stock up on Jaws T shirts, mugs, and other memorabilia. And when real life sharks appeared off Cape Cod beaches and actually bit one man’s leg, crowds flocked rather than fled to spy the spectacle and swarmed souvenir shops for shark staff.

All of which had me asking myself: If there is this much attention for these anniversaries, what can we expect for the really big anniversary coming in October?

October 11, 2012 is, in fact, two commemorative dates in one.  It is the 50^th  anniversary of the opening of Vatican Council II in 1962, and it is also--not by accident--the feast day of Angelo Roncalli: Pope John XXIII.

By any objective standard, that makes this October 11 a very big date indeed.  Vatican II was arguably the largest deliberative meeting in history, and it reset the course of the world’s largest organization: the Roman Catholic Church.  And John XXIII was the man who made it happen--which is why the Church placed his feastday on October 11, rather than follow tradition by using the date of his death.

Because of John’s initiative, 2000 Bishops from five continents gathered during four consecutive autumn sessions (1962, 1963, 1964, 1965) to craft 16 documents shaping the future of Catholicism.

On opening day, October 11, 1962, he compared the gathering to the ancient Pentecost day when Jesus’ disciples, gathered in the upper room, experienced the outpouring of the Holy Spirit that launched them as leaders of the Jesus movement, and he proclaimed his intention to make the Council a “Second Pentecost”--that is, a rebirth of the Church nearly 20 centuries after its original birth.

50 years later, Vatican II’s stands as a watershed event in Catholic history and the most important religious event of the 20^th   century.

But as with many transformative events in history, Vatican II’s real significance has emerged slowly and with difficulty.  Although its reforms were implemented rapidly (perhaps too rapidly) between 1965 in 1975, its long-term legacy is still in limbo.  Among rank and file Catholics, clergy, church officials, Bishops, and theologians we still lack consensus answers to the most basic questions about Vatican II.

Why was the Council called?  What was its purpose?  What did John (and his successor Paul VI) intend?  What really happened at the Council?  What did its document really mean?  What actions did they invoke?  What have they achieved?  How much of the Council’s renewal was about going “back to the sources,” and how much about “updating” Catholic life?  Is Vatican II a success, a failure-- or is it still unfinished?  What is the Council’s future?

These questions alone make October’s 50^th  anniversary a big deal.  If we believe that the world’s bishops gathered in council with the pope constitute the surest, most solemn forum for discerning the divine wisdom of the Holy Spirit, than we cannot afford to squander the graces and guidance of Vatican II by letting its memory die. Nor can we accept a permanent feud over its legacy.

So October 11--and the four-year 50^th  anniversary window that it opens--presents our people and our parishes with a golden opportunity to reflect on and build our solidarity around the Council’s vision and works.  Celebrating the Council’s renewal is an opportunity to renew ourselves.

But besides the Council there is the man.  For many Catholics, especially younger Catholics, John XXIII’s image and memory are obscured by the shadows of John-Paul II and now Benedict XVI.  But the blunt fact is this: the papacies of John-Paul II and Benedict XVI would be impossible, indeed would be unimaginable, if John XXIII had not been pope.

For John XXIII  not only led Vatican II--he also transformed the papacy itself.

Angelo Roncalli was elected at 78 to keep the papal throne warm until a younger man was ready to be elected.  His electors were correct to assume that his reign would be short (less than five years), but they were wrong to assume he would sit quietly on the throne and not rock the Barque of Peter.

By 1960 the Catholic Church had been in “siege” mode for nearly a century, its guard up to defend itself against a hostile and toxic world lurking outside the fortress of Catholic life.  And the pope himself was the “Prisoner of the Vatican,” literally cloistered from the world in self-imposed retreat.

Angelo Roncalli had carved his career in church diplomacy as the perfect “company man,” never making waves and always as reliable and docile as he was affable.  He lived by his episcopal motto “Obedience and Peace.” But a hero lurked within, as evidenced by his actions when, as the Vatican’s apostolic delegate to Turkey and Greece during world war II, he engineered the escape of as many as 200,000 Hungarian Jews (mostly children) from Nazi clutches by issuing them baptismal certificates—for which the Holocaust Museum of Israel bestowed upon him the rare honorary title “Righteous Among the Nations” in 2004.

Once elected pope in 1958, John XXIII had no one to obey but himself and his God, and he knew that the future would require more of Catholicism then a besieged, fortress Church and a prisoner pope.

So even before announcing the Council, he began to break with the status quo.  Feeling confined within Vatican City, he developed the habit of quietly slipping outside its walls at night so he could wander the streets of Rome.  This earned him an affectionate nickname among the Swiss guards and Vatican personnel who were privy to his nocturnal strolls.  They called him “Johnnie Walker.”


These walks now stand as a metaphor for how John XXIII changed the papacy forever. Through his vision and the Council’s actions, the Church dropped its guard and reached out to the world. 

This could not happen, of course, unless the pope himself took the lead.  So, even before the Council’s end, Paul VI (John’s successor) became “the Pilgrim Pope,” visiting the Holy Land, the US, and later nine other countries. After him, John Paul II became “pope as globetrotter,” visiting more than 100 countries.  And now Benedict XVI, despite his age, has followed suit.

The result: the papacy is now more visible than at any time in history, and by personifying the Catholic Church the papacy has made Catholicism’s public presence felt around the globe.

All this--the historic renewal of Catholicism and the dramatic transformation of the papacy--started with John XXIII.

So now that “Jaws” and Julia Child have been duly honored, what will we Catholics do over the next four years beginning October 11 to honor of the memory, the heroic vision, and the lasting legacy of our own “Johnnie Walker” and his Second Pentecost?

© Bernard F. Swain PhD 2011

#364: Do You Fear Islam?

Why Catholics should not share the growing popular fear of Islam.

Sometimes a cluster of apparently unconnected events can reveal a common thread.  Take last week’s stories: A gunman kills six at a Sikh temple.  Mitt Romney implies the inferiority of Palestinian culture.  Stephen Colbert jokes about a guest’s siblings.  A mural at Boston’s Institute for Contemporary Art (ICA) sparks protests.  The Washington Post reports a “riot” in Marseilles.  A front-page photo depicts an Olympic runner wearing long sleeves, long pants, and headgear.

I cannot avoid feeling that an undertone of anxiety runs through all these things - - namely, a paranoid fear of Islam. 

Many readers assumed the Sikhs were Muslims - - or else assumed the killer thought they were.  Writers defended Romney by pointing to the violence of Hamas and Fatah, as if all Palestinians were Muslims.  Colbert joked that, if his guest was a Muslim with male siblings, that made him part of the “Muslim brotherhood.” The Marseilles “riot” erupted when French police stopped a woman wearing a face-veil.  That runner was Saudi Arabia’s first female Olympian, and ran showing only her face. The ICA mural, depicting a boy with a shirt wrapped trapped on its head, struck protesters as an ad promoting terrorism.

More and more, it seems, our current events are laced with images and actions portraying the growing presence and influence of Islam - -and also our increasingly alarmed reactions to it.

The trigger for this, of course, was 9/11, but anxiety about Islam has a longer history.  Generations of western schoolchildren learned the history of conflict between Christianity and Islam, mostly focusing on glorifying the Crusades to “liberate the holy land” (my own alma mater continues to compete athletically under the nickname “Crusaders”).  Behind the narrative lay the loss of Christian lands (especially in Africa in Spain) to Muslim expansion.  Students of “western civilization” learned that when Charles Martel turned back the Moors at the Battle of Tours he “saved” Christian Europe from Islamic domination.  The generally happy pluralism of Moorish Spain was ignored in favor of praising the often brutal Catholic “Reconquest” and its Inquisition.  In short, we were taught to see Christians as lion-hearted crusaders and Muslims as murderous infidels.

So apprehension about the modern resurgence of Islam is natural.  But does calling our anxiety “natural” validate it, or indict it?

Catholics would do well to remember that prejudice against Jews was also a natural outcome of centuries of Christian anti-Semitic discrimination - - but that does not excuse contemporary anti-Semitism.  Sometimes the past must be repudiated, as when Vatican Council II (1962-1965) apologized for the Church’s role in demonizing Jews and enabling their persecution.

It is easy for anti-Islamic commentators to talk of horrific acts by Muslim terrorists as proof of Islam’s perfidy.  But no religion matches its ideals even in its official practices, and moreover no religion can control the private actions of all its members.  If we measure Christianity by the evidence of religious wars, discrimination against Jews, the intolerance and torture of the Inquisition, and the performance of child-raping priests and their rape-enabling bishops, we might claim conclusive proof that Christianity is an unholy perversion of Jesus’ teachings.

Every religion has its strengths and weaknesses, successes and failures, virtues and flaws.  In fairness, the only balanced way to proceed is to grasp what a religion stands for, praise it for its good qualities, and criticize its failings.

I was lucky enough, in my theological studies, to learn how Muslim libraries and scholars preserved ancient texts such as Aristotle and Plato, and how Muslim thinkers such as Avicenna and Averroes thus influenced the theological development of Catholic thinkers like Thomas Aquinas.  Without that Islamic influence, I knew, we would’ve lost forever much of ancient wisdom.  But few Catholics have received that kind of positive portrayal of Islam.

Instead, I suspect that millions of U.S. Catholics have never achieved a balanced understanding of Islam.  I suspect those millions feel, even if only consciously, the undertone of anxiety woven into today’s news coverage.  I even suspect that millions of Catholics share that anxiety, if only by exposure to an infectious outlook.

So two timely questions arise: (1) Do you fear Islam?  (2) What does Islam really stand for?

Only you can answer the first question, but there are objective answers to the second question.  And as a simple matter of strengthening their Catholic identity, Catholics might want to begin with the official perspective on Islam that comes from their own Church.

The Catholic Catechism, for example has this to say:

The Church's relationship with the Muslims. "The plan of salvation also includes those who acknowledge the Creator, in the first place amongst whom are the Muslims; these profess to hold the faith of Abraham, and together with us they adore the one, merciful God, mankind's judge on the last day."

The Catechism is quoting from Vatican II, which also said this:

The Church regards with esteem also the Moslems. They adore the one God, living and subsisting in Himself; merciful and all- powerful, the Creator of heaven and earth, who has spoken to men; they take pains to submit wholeheartedly to even His inscrutable decrees, just as Abraham, with whom the faith of Islam takes pleasure in linking itself, submitted to God. Though they do not acknowledge Jesus as God, they revere Him as a prophet. They also honor Mary, His virgin Mother; at times they even call on her with devotion. In addition, they await the day of judgment when God will render their deserts to all those who have been raised up from the dead. Finally, they value the moral life and worship God especially through prayer, almsgiving and fasting.

Since in the course of centuries not a few quarrels and hostilities have arisen between Christians and Moslems, this sacred synod urges all to forget the past and to work sincerely for mutual understanding and to preserve as well as to promote together for the benefit of all mankind social justice and moral welfare, as well as peace and freedom.

Notice the council’s practical advice when it “urges all to forget the past and to work sincerely for mutual understanding.”

It may be surprising that our Church takes such a positive view of Islam, especially in light of past conflicts.  It may also surprise you that Vatican II had already addressed the question 50 years ago, well before Islam became headline news.

But these official documents offer a healthy antidote to the infectious anxiety around us.  Over the next generation, Catholics everywhere - - and especially Catholic leaders - -will need to absorb and communicate the reality that, in this day and age, “love your neighbor” means especially “love your fellow Muslims.”

© Bernard F. Swain PhD 2011

#363 What is "Real Presence"?

Can our Church make room for virtual community, and reach out and welcome those who live in it?

At the 2008 Beijing Olympics my nephew Jared Connaughton ran sprints and relays for team Canada, but his parents could not make the trip to watch him in person; instead they settled for watching the events on TV.

But August 2012 finds them flying to London to be present for Jared’s performances. “Seeing” him race in Beijing was wonderful, but being with him will be the proud moment any parent dreams of.

The rest of us, of course, will be watching Jared on TV --but if we’re watching during primetime, he and his parents will be sound asleep. London is 5 hours ahead of Boston, after all-- so most Olympic TV is actually on tape, not live. If we want to be surprised by the outcome, we’ll need to avoid any news of it during the day.

This is typical of our age, an age that has almost totally blurred the once-sharp lines between presence and absence, between the real and the imaginary.

Maybe this began in 1895, when Parisians panicked during the first public movie show. Seeing a train arriving head-on toward them, the audience bolted for the exits. (See the original here http://www.schooltube.com/video/bf11a6cb123389d19b53/  ) We now know that “suspension of disbelief” is the key not only to cinema, but also to TV, videos, and streaming tubes online. They are all just images on a flat surface, pure optical illusions--yet we take them for real people, real places, real events.

Of course, even before cinema people suspended disbelief. Greek theatre featured actors wearing masks and allowed violence only off-stage, yet the whole point of Greek tragedy was to evoke “pity and terror” in audiences. Mystery plays and passion plays aimed to evoke Christian devotion. Written fictions from Chaucer to Shakespeare to Dickens evoked an entire imagined world that touched and moved readers.

When photography arrived, people could see themselves and others without the filter of an artist’s impressions: we saw whatever the camera saw.

Then, with cinema, we saw things moving! So movies seemed to be, not an alternate reality, but reality itself, captured and reshaped and requiring no imagination by the viewer. So strong is cinema’s psychic blurring of real and imaginary that, when the Aurora gunman began firing at the midnight showing of “Dark Knight Rising,” many viewers thought it was simply a movie-related gimmick.

Next came radio and telephone, and suddenly the voices of others were in our homes. I’m too young to have witnessed my parents’generation’s awe at hearing FDR’s fireside chats as they sat in their living rooms, but I still recall their astonishment whenever they got a long distance call: “I can’t believe you’re in California! It sounds like you’re right next door!” For millions, the world was suddenly smaller, since absent loved ones were no longer so absent.

Then TV arrived, and overnight the entire world seemed to be right there, before our eyes, in our own homes. US Catholicism, despite its long fear of cinema and the “Legion of Decency” that protected Catholics from sinful images, quickly embraced TV with televised Masses and the theatrical “live” teaching of Bishop Sheen. Thus even Church came into homes.

Nearly 20 years later, cassettes made personal recording possible, and by now videotape and DVDs and flash drives allow us to preserve live action all of all sorts, to keep our pasts present in living moving color. With such technology, those who have left us live on in the images we keep to lessen their absence. (My own voice mail contains a saved message, now four years old, from a pastor who died suddenly the day after he called. Somehow I cannot delete that “live” voice.)

“Reality TV” has also been a cultural phenomenon for more than 20 years now. My youngest son, who does camera work for reality shows, can attest that the appearance of real life is achieved by careful, even tedious manipulation, repetition, and editing of images. And this is not only true of so-called “reality” shows. Talk shows, however live they seem, are generally taped and edited. Local news stations routinely run tape loops that repeat the same “live” newscast hour after hour. And just the other night I heard a dramatic Red Sox victory on radio and then--with the game already ended--I still had time to turn on the TV for the “live” image of the batter hitting the game-winning home run (since the TV broadcast is on 15 second delay)!

Moreover, since 2000 digital technology and the internet have revolutionized all our communications. Cellphones, instant messaging, blogs, Facebook, Twitter, Skype--all these enable us to see and hear anyone anywhere.

Studying in France in 1968 I was almost totally isolated from family and friends, except for the occasional letter. But when my son studied in Barcelona 35 years later, he was handed a cell phone at the airport so he could call home. And now, when I return to my Paris school to meet students, I find them in constant contact with everyone they know that by text, voice, and webcam. The absence I experienced, which so transformed me, is no longer possible. Distance no longer counts.

We see this every day, of course, when people absent themselves from a restaurant table to answer their cellphone, leave a meeting to take a call, or drive along oblivious to the traffic around them as they talk to someone who is not there.

This survey of our era begs the question: What difference does this make for Catholic life and faith?

One clue comes from pressing pastoral question that arose at the dawn of the TV era: “If we watch Mass on TV, do we fulfill our Sunday obligation to attend Mass?” The answer was: no. Walking into Mass fulfilled the obligation even if one merely sat or slept or daydreamed, even if one did not receive communion, even if one left early. But watching on TV--even if one used a missal, followed all the readings, said all the prayers, sat and knelt and stood--watching on TV did not count.

This reflected the long-held notion that the Body of Christ, even though sometimes called a mystical body, is actually composed of people who physically assemble in a real, physical space. “Wherever two or more of you are gathered together, I am with you.”

The Last Supper was a real physical gathering; those who witnessed the crucifixion were really there; the disciples learned of the Resurrection gathered in the upper room, and Pentecost occurred at a similar gathering. Early Christians gathered in homes for worship. The movement to convert Roman basilicas to Christian worship reflected the need for larger gathering spaces. The thousands of churches worldwide, and the great cathedrals and basilica spread over six continents, are not primarily shrines for private devotion. Above all, they are places for assembling the faithful.

Jesus said, “Do this in memory of me,” and Catholics gather to do as he said. Jesus said, “This is my body,” and “This is my blood,” and Catholics proclaim the belief that during Mass Christ becomes really present among us--and we call this our “Communion,” our coming together.

This idea of “real presence,” of course, reflects a simpler time when people were either present or absent. Catholics also believed, however, in a spiritual community that went beyond our physical community: the Communion of Saints who remain present in our hearts and prayers.

But now “presence” means something new. Someone answering a cellphone may seem more present to the caller then to those in the same room. Someone Skyping may feel more present to the person appearing on the screen than to someone two feet away.
The phrase “virtual reality” became commonplace because “real” reality now has a rival--and for millions, especially millions of the next generation, that virtual reality is often “more real” than the other reality. Virtual connections can feel more real. Virtual friends can feel more real. Virtual meeting can feel more real.

If entire future populations will inhabit two realities, if “community” comes to include virtual community, does this mean that as Church we must tell these people that “virtual community does not count”? That virtual connections do not count? That a virtual presence is not a real presence?

As Church, we must resist the temptation to dismiss this cultural phenomenon as irrelevant.

Can we find a way to expand our notion of “Communion” to include a new, third Communion, recognizing that the body of Christ maybe not only the sacramental Communion of faithful gathered to worship, and the spiritual Communion of saints--but also the virtual Communion now made possible by human ingenuity?

In short, can we find a way to make all these Communions part of the reality in which Christ’s real presence can redeem us all?

©Bernard F. Swain PhD 2012